Out of Whack

. . . sounds like I am outing myself as an addict but am thinking 'whack' as in Dolly's.

I was so determined that my next 'post' was not going to be infiltrated by That maudlin tone of late, but fark, if it isn't a day where the gut is just going 'something ain't right in the world'. Focus and motivation are distinctly absent, my eyes are shifty, I can't remember my dreams, I feel edgy and even a walk, buried deep in music, has not put the whack back in place. It's dislodged and gone into the head and so at every tilt my brain emits a bleating, fading 'blaaaaaaah'. (Insert decrescendo sign)

And even this, this attempt to put it in front and away from me, is just making me realise that it is like some weird hay-fever, a brain-fever for which I need a strong anti-histamine that I cannot obtain. Or something, some more apt metaphor for which I don't have the patience to think up. I can't even tell if that is grammatically correct.